


Two Hours

by TheCarrot



Series: 2020 Covid Smut Files [9]
Category: Triple Frontier (2019)
Genre: But Pope's not mad about it, Edgeplay, Hair-pulling, Hand Jobs, He's stil a grouchy fuck though, M/M, Nothing was discussed, Please use a safe word kids, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn with Feelings, Sex Toys, Will wants to watch Santi fALL ApArT, also a good one though, how we all want a back massage to end
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-23
Updated: 2020-10-23
Packaged: 2021-03-09 01:48:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,463
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27156154
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheCarrot/pseuds/TheCarrot
Summary: If Santiago had had any sort of inkling that his back-pain induced lie-in would end up taking the turn it does, well… frankly he’s not sure if he’d believe it or not. Because if Pope was privy to any part of what Will had been planning his entire way home from lunch with his brother, Santiago has absolutely no doubt that he’d  throw the book on the bedstead at Ironhead in early retaliation.Maybe even the lamp.
Relationships: Santiago "Pope" Garcia/William "Ironhead" Miller
Series: 2020 Covid Smut Files [9]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1683301
Comments: 4
Kudos: 15





	Two Hours

**Author's Note:**

  * For [mssrj_335](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mssrj_335/gifts).



> For my dearest Jo, enjoy the smut I said I'd write for you a month ago!
> 
> XD

If Santiago had had any sort of inkling that his back-pain induced lie-in would end up taking the turn it does, well… frankly he’s not sure if he’d believe it or not. Because if Pope was privy to any part of what Will had been planning his entire way home from lunch with his brother, Santiago has absolutely no doubt that he’d throw the book on the bedstead at Ironhead in early retaliation. 

Maybe even the lamp.

As it goes however, Will gets home and pokes his head into their bedroom when his greeting goes unanswered. He frowns when he sees Santiago still in bed and grimacing in discomfort. Stepping carefully into the room, Will first asks: “You okay?” Then secondly; “Your back bothering you?” And then proceeds to put the proverbial nail in Santiago’s imaginary coffin by finishing with “Want a massage?”

Instead of throwing anything, or cursing like some of the sailors he’s met, all Pope says is “Yeah,” and “Thanks,” because his father raised him to be polite. 

Will smiles at him, quietly deviates towards their small attached bathroom for a moment as Pope carefully turns over onto his stomach, his back twinging at the new position. Neck muscles pull uncomfortably and Santiago grunts at the chill of the room that settles on the newly bared skin of his back as the blankets slide down from the warm cocoon he had wrapped himself up in earlier. 

It takes Will no time at all to come back and Santiago smiles up at him from his spot, head now cushioned on his arms so he can watch the blond climb up onto the bed next to his hip. “How was lunch?”

“Good,” Will muses, shifting to throw a long leg over Pope’s hips, sinking down to sit onto the firm muscle of Santi’s legs. “Benny’s coming for dinner tomorrow, said he’d bring the beer.” He drops the items in his hands to the bed beside his knee. The first, a small tub of coconut oil Catfish’s wife bought Will one Christmas that he never had a use for until Pope’s knees moved into his apartment; and then unbeknownst to the man beneath him, Will also drops a small curved black toy he’d picked up last week as a surprise, next to said tub. 

Santiago sighs deeply, Will’s weight a comforting presence along his back as he’s bracketed by strong thighs and the soft warmth the taller man has always managed to exude. Then Will is leaning forward getting a start on ridding Pope of the unwanted painful tension. 

It hurts at first, agile fingers digging into the muscle on either side of his spine and pressing outwards, but Will’s done this enough times for him by now that Santiago just focuses on breathing through it— and wherein years past he would have just taken a painkiller and suffered for the rest of the day. With Will working on him like this, his back slowly loosens and Pope finally lets his mind wander to the lovely feel of gun calloused palms pressing into the dip of his spine.

Santiago twitches when he feels Will’s strong fingers start to trail down just a little lower on some his strokes. Then a little lower and lower still and Santi actually hums under his breath, muscles completely relaxed and the first stirring of arousal starting to creep along his veins at the teasing glances. 

Will grins down at the expanse of gleaming golden skin beneath him and carefully lets his hands come to a rest on the curve of his boyfriends ass, and damn if it doesn’t make him want to sink his teeth into that pert roundness. Will’s seen worse asses on far more attractive people and he can’t help leaning forward then, pressing a small biting kiss to the lax shoulder and lets his already oiled fingers slip down just that bit extra, pressing questioningly between the cleft of Pope’s cheeks. 

Below him Santiago let’s out a small moan. 

“Yeah?” Will asks, so glad the other man can’t see the wolfish lilt to his smirk, can’t see the sly glint in his eyes as his plan falls so easily into his hands.

“Fuck yeah,” Santiago agrees without opening his eyes, ready to cap off what is looking to be the end of a much better afternoon than his morning proved to be. A noise of discontent leaves him a moment later however when he feels Will’s hand leave him.

“Shh, just relax.” Will chuckles and gathers a bit more of the coconut oil. He smirks into the warm skin of Santiago’s back once again as he adjusts his weight, is slow and careful as he slips a finger into the prone man, just a tease. Pope shivers below him and Will makes his move. 

He’s fast. As quick and deadly as he’s ever been in the field, accuracy unerring as he removes his finger, presses Pope firmly down into the blankets with the length of his arm along lax shoulder blades and picks up the small black toy he had deposited beside his knee…

“What the fuck-“ Santiago jerks when Will suddenly pulls his hand away, only for his touch to be immediately replaced by the cool slide of something _else_ … and Santiago makes to shove himself upwards indignantly, but Will’s arms keep him down and he snaps instead. “What the hell is thaaahh-?”

Santiago loses the end of his question on a drawn out groan. The toy, definitely some sort of toy he thinks, isn’t large and Santi hisses at the feel of cool silicone and tries to get his brain to wrap around his current predicament. He hisses through his teeth around the stretch from the flared base that suddenly tapers down again, sliding snugly into place and pressing up against all the best parts of him, inside and out; and Santiago clutches at the blankets cursing aloud. 

Will darts his tongue out, wetting his suddenly dry lips at the sight before him. The narrow base of the toy settling between those ass cheeks and… Will has to tear his eyes away, back up the line of Pope’s bowed spine to meet glaring brown eyes being thrown at him.

“The fuck man?” Santiago tries to push himself upward once more, to knock the blond off his back, but the toy, and it can’t be any bigger than two of Will’s fingers really, but it shifts just enough to cut off Pope’s complaint and leaves him pressing his forehead back to the blankets and gasping. 

“I was thinking we could make a little wager.” Will muses, watching Santiago struggle to get his limbs to cooperate. Grinds his own very interested dick down against bare flesh, jeans unforgiving even as he taps the black base upwards and Will revels in the way Pope’s knuckles turn white when the toy nudges up against his perineum. 

“W-what?” There’s a pleasant heat curling at the base of his spine and Santiago lets himself drop back down to the mattress, cock mostly hard against the sprawl of their sheets at the insistent pressure inside of him. “You’re a cunt by the way.”

Will smirks, like that’s amusing to him. It’s not the first time Pope’s called him that. “Maybe, but I’m also the cunt that’s betting with you that you can’t last even two hours with that in.” Santiago sputters beneath him and Will finally lets himself tip over, landing on his back next to his boyfriend with the smuggest of smug smirks on his lips. 

Santiago is on him in a moment, dark eyes flashing with warning in the low afternoon light, but it quickly fades when the extent of his movements cause the tip of the toy to shift right on that bundle of nerves inside— and for the briefest of moments, Santiago wonders if Will might be right. Two hours with this thing inside of him… Jesus Christ…

The same thought seems reflected in Wills blue eyes when Pope finally steadies himself enough to look down at him. The fucker; reclined as easy as ever, with his hands laced together on his chest and glancing up at Santiago with amusement. That look alone is enough to seal Santiago’s fate for the next few hours. 

“Two hours huh? That’ll be nothing.” Santiago boasts, unsure if it’s a lie or not. (It most definitely is.) He just has to rub one out in the shower and he’ll be fine.

Wills hands move then, fingers that are still slick with coconut oil slide down his sides easily and Santiago does his best to to flinch into the maddening light touch. “And if I raised the stakes…told you that you’re not allowed to come until your time is up? Still think you’d make it?”

Golden skin flushes, Santiago’s cock twitching where it’s pressed between his own stomach and the denim of Will’s pants. Fuck-what the fuck?

“If I tell you not to touch yourself, not to take the toy out…” Will digs his fingertips into the divot of muscles along Pope’s back with a grin, pulls him down until he can feel the tiny jerks the other man can’t help but make into the pressure. “I know you, you won’t make it. Be begging me to fuck you before your two hours are up.” 

Will lifts his head up enough to press an amused kiss to the corner of Santiago’s mouth that is turning up into a snarl.

“And if I do come? What are you gonna do about it?” Santiago snarks back, competitiveness rearing its ugly head. It’s gotten him into so much trouble in the past and he wonders why he ever thought it would be any different when he’s older… although he can’t say he ever expected this. Never expected Will to use his stubborness against him like this.

Wills blue eyes just flash dangerously, sliding back to the bed cooly, like it wouldn’t surprise him if Santiago lost. “You could always try it and find out.” He says tone sounding on the edge of disappointed and Santiago flinches. Will knows he’s won then, knows he’s caught his lover in the perfect trap of his own stubborn making, because Santiago just huffs, mummers a stressed ‘fine, you fucker’ and squirms away, back to his own side of the bed.

“Jesus fuck,” Pope adds on a high yelp when he lands on his back. He’d better get one hell of a reward for this shit.

—

Getting used to the toy takes Santiago much longer than he expects it too; getting up from the bed is a struggle, never mind slipping into yesterdays jeans being far more difficult than it should be and the dark haired man wills his body to cooperate as behind him Ironhead slinks out of the room, smug grin firmly back on his face. 

‘Fucker,’ Santiago wants to curse at him, stares at the lamp with a good amount of consideration, but doesn’t pick it up though, because damn himself if he didn’t let his pride get him into a deep puddle of shit again. He’s going to make Will pay for this.

There’s coffee already in the pot when Pope finally makes it out to the kitchen, and his favourite mug sits on the counter that’s clearly been left out for him by Will despite it being past lunch and Santiago focuses on that; on the idea of food and the lack of pain in his back, instead of the damning shots of pleasure every time he twists in any way.

It’s a strange feeling, but Santiago once walked over two klicks with a bullet wound in his leg… in a few minutes the damned toy will be nothing but a minor inconvenience and he can start planning his revenge—

“Ah!” Santiago gasps loudly, every nerve unexpectedly assaulted by the sudden rapid vibrations from the toy inside him. His grip on the butterknife goes white knuckled as he slams his fist down on the counter, his knee cracking into the lower cupboards when his legs almost give out beneath him and Santiago can feel his breath coming faster and faster as pleasure rakes through his entire body.

A smug hum sounds behind him, barely heard over the downward rush of blood from his head to his dick, but if there’s one sound today that sets off all Santiago’s nerves, it’s that damned gloating smirk of Wills. Pope whips his head around and sure enough, there’s Ironhead, leaning against the doorframe that leads into the kitchen, coffee in one hand, phone in the other, looking the perfect picture of nonchalance. 

Santiago grits his teeth, mouth opening to unleash a new fresh hell on his boyfriend but the blond just smiles back at him beatifically and before Pope can even get a word out, Will drags his thumb up the screen of his phone. Brown eyes slam shut and Santiago can do nothing more than fall back against the counter, half collapsed over the formica, all but keening when the toy changes pace within him.

It’s unlike anything he’s ever felt before. Less of the stretch that he likes, and only with that barest hint of pressure at his rim, which really only serves to be a maddening addition to the overwhelming sensation inside, the toy making every part of him feel strung tight with need… and what the actual FUCK?! Will did not fucking warn him this thing fucking vibrates! 

However as quickly as it starts, the buzzing stops and Santiago would give anything to wipe the self-satisfied look off of Ironheads lips… would give anything to put Will’s thumb back on the control he’s clearly got on his phone because… Gods fucking damnit.

Santiago slams the butter knife down onto the counter and growls low in chest as he gathers enough strength to storm over to his boyfriend. “You’re a fucking cheat Miller.” 

Will does not back away, doesn’t even flinch at how Pope’s eyes scream bloody murder at him, just meets the mans intensity with his own cool gaze and Will lets himself be pulled down into a kiss that could only be described as violent; Santiago pressing words against his lips, sounds and vowel intermingled in some sort of semblance that would sound like damnation if Santiago could be bothered to pull away long enough speak clearly. 

Pope doesn’t notice when Will slides his coffee cup onto the counter next to them, only realized he’s moved when Will’s suddenly free hand, those warm, broad, calloused fingers, reach out to cup his jaw attempting to gently push him back. Santiago doesn’t go though, he only pushes himself closer, intent of shoving the taller man flat against the wall and putting an end to this; games, bets and rewards be damned.

Only, the harder Santiago seems to push, Wills pulls turn that much stronger in reply. 

Ironhead tsks fondly against his mouth and Santiago can’t help the broken off gasp when suddenly it’s his back being slammed against the wall, cries out when he feels Wills strong fingers fist into the curls atop his head and pull; tiny perfect pinpricks of pain that haul him back from the edge inelegantly. 

The shorter man breaks the kiss with a snarl, back curving up off the wall in a graceless arch when the toy kicks into gear again, a different pace this time and not nearly as strong as before. Pope’s hips twitch of their own accord, body trying to accommodate the toys ever changing pace and yet still trying to get closer to Will at the same time.

But Will doesn’t touch him any more than the hand in his hair, just watches Pope with an air of aloofness. “Barely been half an hour. You gonna come like this?” He chuckles; taunts. “So soon?”

Pope would punch him if he didn’t like Wills stupid face so much. Tells the blond as much in a voice far too strained and far too breathless for— Fuck, has it really only been a half hour Santiago cringes to himself. 

He feels it when the toy gets turned off and Santiago makes a low noise at the loss of the vibrations, sinking back against the wall to keep himself upright. Blown-black brown eyes crack open as Will’s hand slides out of his hair and Pope feels it more than sees it when it moves to rest on the wall next to his head. 

The lack of sensation is almost worse, Santiago thinks then, chest heaving. The phantom touch(pull)tug that lingers on his scalp, the curling pleasure low in his gut that he can’t chase away. That he can’t get more of without Will’s allowance, apparently. 

“Not gonna lie, I’m really starting to like watchin` you like this.” Will grins then, leans down to press a soft kiss to Santiago’s forehead before pulling away entirely. “You should finish your breakfast, I think your toast got cold.”

Fuck his toast, but godsdamn does Pope want to throw the fucking toaster at him.

—

Santiago eats, all the meanwhile trying to get his body back under his control and when he’s done, proceeds to take one of the longest and coldest showers he’s ever had. It’s also the most aggravating shower he’s ever taken as well because he’s half expecting Ironhead to turn the stupid toy on at any moment and it starts making him twitchy when nothing happens. Is glad for it however, doesn’t mind the reprieve, least of all the save his neck and his knees from a bad fall should he be surprised 

Pope can’t help but bite his lip, wonders if Will really would be able to tell if he just took the edge off…

Probably, knowing Will. There’s not much the man can’t tell about him. Fuck, he’s really dug his own grave here hasn’t he. So he does his best to put the desire aside, thinks he does a pretty decent job of it for a while; starts planning what he can make for dinner tomorrow when Benny and Fish come over, and it’s not until he’s getting changed in their bedroom that out of nowhere the toy flickers to life once more. 

“Motherfucker-“ 

Santiago grunts when it does, and glances at the clock. An hour and twenty minutes. He palms himself then, just to relieve a bit of the pressure, and his cock fills quickly when he leans against the dresser, body twitching and nerves shot all to hell. Pope has to tear his hand away from the front of his jeans, leans against the dresser as he catches his breath and the toy stops again. 

Their bedroom is silent, save for his heavy breathing and Santiago needs to put an end to this. If Will gets to torture him like this, Santiago thinks it’s only fair if he starts playing dirty too. He swipes a random shirt out of the drawer and hauls it over his head with far shakier movements then he’d like, the fabric sticks to his chest where he hadn’t managed to dry off from his shower and he marches out of the bedroom towards the living room.

Will is sprawled out on the couch, both feet propped up on the coffee table and a beer bottle pressed idly to his lips as on the TV a sports match Santiago can’t be bothered to notice plays. It’s the phone lit up on the arm of the couch that really draws his attention, derails his revenge plan in one feel swoop and Santiago lunges.

His fingers manage to brush the phone case, only Will is faster; and every intention Santiago had to to get the accursed thing out of Wills reach fails as the blond knocks it down between his hip and the cushion. Santiago ends in an awkward sprawl, goes to makes a second dive for it but Will is already moving, wrapping both his arms around Pope’s waist and drawing him in— in, down and over until Santiago is splayed out on his back on the couch with Will perched above him. 

Will’s grin ticks up at the corner as he sets the half empty beer down on the floor and shifts to wrap a firm grip around Santi’s wrists the moment the older mans hands start to pull at his shirt. Lets his knees dig into Pope’s sides to keep them from falling over, and also for the pure pleasure of pinning him down even more.

Santi can’t help tugging at his wrists, small noise lodged in his throat when Will’s grip holds true. Grinds down into the pressure on his hips without thought. “You’re an asshole. Fucking- Penjedo! El cabrón-Ah!” 

Blue eyes just watch in amusement as Pope bucks beneath him, but Will keeps his hold tight, lets his gaze travel the length of tightly coiled muscles and can’t help but lick his lips at the wonderful sight before him. “You want up? Put on a show for me then.”

“Come on man- stop fucking around, give me something… I’m gonna die of blue balls here!” Santi gasps, is sure he’s never been so hard so long in his entire life.

Ironhead tilts his head to the side with a chuckle. Lets go of one of the still damp wrists in his hands, only to shift backwards to give himself enough room to slip his hand beneath the small gap Pope’s back makes against the cushions. Lets his smirk turn a bit more feral as he slides it down to Pope’s ass, taps on the solid base of the toy still there and relishes in the way it makes Santiago yelp, makes him scramble for leverage that Will is not affording him.

His fingers of his free hand just barely brush against the other mans length, and Santiago feels another rush of heat in the knowledge that Will is just as hard as he is. Fuck what a sight they must be like this. 

“I-Iron-haaa…” Santi feels so over sensitized that even the smallest shift the toy makes is like fire spreading along his skin. Every nerve like a live wire, jolting when touched. His free hand makes a bid for WIll’s waist, just lets the desperate sounds fall from his lips because theres no way he can keep them back now. Not with the perfect pressure of Will grinding down against him and the push of toy against that bundle of nerves and behind his balls- Gods, just a bit more… 

“You still have half an hour…” Will muses suddenly and his voice like lightening, dangerous and amazing with how in control he looks looming over Santiago like he is. “You tapping out early?”

Both feelings disappear at once and Santiago barely bites back a howl at the sudden lack of sensation. Isn’t sure the sound he makes doesn’t promise death on it’s chords regardless.

“Fuck you!” Pope snaps angrily, every part of him trembling, so close to the edge now it would take absolutely nothing to tip him over it. Yet nothing is what Will gives him, no matter how he tries to move, and Santiago collapses back onto the couch, snark colouring his voice. “You better be letting me fuck you after this is over!” And Pope can’t wait, can only imagine Will in his place spread out underneath him, flushed and— he groans, cuts off his own line of thinking. 

That way lies madness and defeat. 

“But I haven’t lost yet.”

“Good choice.” Ironhead smirks, recaptures Santiago’s wrists in his grip as he moves to stand, uses the hold he has on them to pull the older man up off the couch. Kisses him then, and Ironhead can practically taste the desperation and the want on Pope’s lips like this; relishes the feel when a sigh practically shudders through Pope as Will carefully walks them backwards.

And then Will is pushing Pope away and down, into the chair that sits directly across from the couch. “Now you just sit there and wait patiently because if you can’t control yourself, you don’t get to touch at all.” 

“Half an hour?” Santiago asks with a confidence he doesn’t really feel.

Will grins then, it’s a little less dark, a bit more proud and it strokes Popes ego in a way he didn’t know he wanted it to be. The blond leans down, looking like he’s going to at least kiss him again, only Will nudges Santiago’s nose with his own and dark brown eyes narrow before he returns to his seat on the couch. 

Santi growls, watching as his boyfriend casually sits back down, sparing only a moment to dig out his phone and place it back onto the arm of the couch. Will watches him watch and grins at Santiago’s frown.

Ironhead finishes off his beer slowly, lets his own hand slide tantalizing down his chest, well aware of how his favourite pair of striking eyes follow the movement, watches Pope bite his lip in response, doubts the older man even notice when his own hands start to mimic Will’s until the blond snaps his attention to it.

“Hands up on the rests, Pope.” Will orders, and Santiago feels it like a sharp knife of arousal straight into the heart of him. 

Santiago whimpers, actually fucking whimpers and he’d be a bit more horrified at the sound if it wasn’t Will making him like this. Hadn’t been making him a desperate and wonton mess all morning. It takes a second for his brain to catch up, but one look at those steel blue eyes that leave no room for argument has Pope digging short nails into the fabric of the chair arms with a vengeance. “Better. Now keep your hands there.”

“Christ… Will, please…” Well that fake confidence didn’t last very long, Santiago curses.

It’s hard. It’s so hard to just watch, to not touch himself. But it’s even harder not to touch Will. And that, Santiago thinks silently, is the crux of the problem. Gods he wants to come, but even more than that he wants to touch Will when he’s like this. 

“Eyes forwards Garcia.” 

Because this Will is everything: Saint and sinner, ascetic and worldly, all aspects of him united together with Santiago as his sole focus, and it’s enough to drive any sober man to the bottle. A thing no normal man could withstand.

“Thats it Pope.”

For Ironhead has always been intense; strong willed and profound, yet oh so quiet. A muzzled wolf. Hidden. Like everything he says aloud has already been repeated back to himself several times before any words dare leave his lips. He’s a planner, always has been, but where Redfly had been tactical, William Miller is a more altruistic man.

Careful in and only to spare himself or Benny. But here and now, it’s different. Will is not careful. 

He’s greedy.

Luxuriant. 

Completely unrepentant in his splendour.

Pope feels like he could burn away like this. Positive that even a supernova could sear along his skin and it would still be nothing compared to the intensity of Will’s copper fire gaze on him.

It’s glorious. Will’s quiet armour is completely burned away right now. Nothing muted and words completely unfiltered. He’s unapologetically brazen, loud and exuberant with desire screaming in his eyes as he watches Santiago tremble before him. Like Will is soaking up every inch that he gives him and stretching it out for miles. 

Santiago is still fully dressed but feels more exposed than he’s ever in his life. 

Will’s guard is down like it doesn’t exist at all and Pope can barely breathe with the knowledge. 

A phone beeps interrupts his line of thinking, and brown eyes shoot down to the cursed object by Wills arms. Does that mean-

His two hours are up.

Santiago’s gaze jumps to Wills and the other man smiles, pleased, tilts his head towards the couch and it’s an offer as clear as day.

He made it. Fucking Hell.

Pope is up like the very chair has been electrified. Fast than any explosions he’s ever dogged and he is across the small space of their living room and back in Will’s lap before Will can even speak.

“Coño! Debería dejarte sufrir, you fucker!” Santiago curses, fingers digging into the curve of Will’s neck; and it has to be an uncomfortably tight grip, but Will says nothing; just grins into the kiss as he fumbles with his phone and Santiago barely holds back a screech as the toy starts up into the highest notch so far. “S-shit- ah! Will!”

Will tumbles them back over onto the couch, copying their position from earlier, only this time the taller man growls as he fights with the button of Popes jeans. Only Pope won’t stop kissing him. Bronze fingers tangled in short blond hair, nails scratching through it until Santiago’s grip falls to where it turns to beard and he tugs on it harshly; gasps loudly as Will sinks his teeth into his neck to muffle the noise escaping him in retaliation. 

The button gives way and Pope’s zipper is loud around their panted breaths, Will’s hand making short work of them both and it barely takes a full stroke of his palm before Santiago is throwing his head back, neck bared and eyes slammed shut as he starts to careen towards the awaiting edge. Feels every callous and ridge on Will’s hand around him and Pope can’t stop the broken noise that he shouts loudly to the living room walls, can’t help the way his entire body seems to convulse when Will clamps a hand over his mouth to quiet him. Gods forbid the neighbours hear.

Pope almost comes at the thought, at the mere hint of everyone on their floor knowing that his boyfriend is the kind of bastard that makes him scream as he’s driven so close to the edge the world starts to go fuzzy behind his eyelids. 

Will shifts over him, and Pope would scream when his hand disappears, but it’s only for a moment, and then Ironhead is back, his own cock a hard line of heat next to Pope’s and Santiago whines, high and tight when Will wraps a firm hand around them both where they’re pressed together in the minuscule space left between their bodies. 

Santiago tries to push up into the unforgiving pace of his boyfriends hand, but only manages to clench around the toy, feels the tremors rack each limbs as his orgasm slams into him. Crashes over him like a tidal wave until he can’t breathe; and then that damned toy keeps going. It feels like it’s drawing every ounce of possible pleasure from him, adding and building up inside of him over and over until Pope’s entire body is trembling like one overblown circuit beneath Will with breathless little ‘ah’s’ and broken pleases against the skin of Will’s palm.

Blue eyes watch Santiago fall apart and Will lets himself follow the older man over the edge, spilling hot and wet over his own fingers and the fabric of Pope’s t-shirt neither of them had ever gotten around to removing. He feels Santiago go limp beneath him and Will smirks smugly into the soft curve of throat his teeth are still pressed against. 

Well that was definitely worth all the bitching he’s going to have to listen to for the next week.

—

Santiago comes back to the feel of a heavy weight on top of him and he does his damnedest to focus enough, manages to raise one hand to smack Will on his shoulder before letting it go limp against the couch again. 

Will laughs into the crook of his boyfriends neck and scrapes his beard along a stubble worn chin and the rather dark hickey he had made there. “You almost look ready to complain.” He marvels.

“Don’t even.” Pope hisses. Thanks whatever deity is listening that the toy inside him is still now. “I’m going to grab whatever is closest and fucking throw it at you.” 

“Oh?” The blond props himself up on one elbow and takes in the rapid thrum of Santiago’s pulse still fluttering away beneath his chest. “I think you’d have to get up to do that.” 

“Fuck you.” 

“We can do that too.” Will muses. “If you think you’re up for it.” 

Santiago lifts tired brown eyes to meet amused blue and can’t help the tiny shake of his head. “Fuck, I love you.” 

“I know.”

Brown eyes close. “Just wait until I tell you what I want for my prize though.” 

Will’s own gaze narrows but Pope looks half asleep and he figures he can let it go until tomorrow.


End file.
